When The Easter Lily Cries
by Bent137
Summary: Rory and Jess remember, seperately, an Easter that changed their lives. : [OneShot]


**Title: **When The Easter Lily Cries  
**Author: **Bent137  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Summary: **Rory and Jess remember, separately, an Easter that changed their lives.  
**Author's Note: **This is a STAND ALONE. There will be no more than this. This is it, it will not leave you fulfilled, but that's the way I want it. It makes it that much more poignant. Please do not ask me to continue, because I will not. Please do not ask me to do a prelude, because I will not.

** **

When The Easter Lily Cries

She hated this day. She really shouldn't, she loved all the things it used to stand for. When she was a little girl this day was almost as good as Christmas. Easter, the very word brought tingles. Egg hunts at the inn, baskets brimming with candy, and a new bike every year. Now the day just brought sorrow. A deep pain that would start in her hands, they would shake, it would work it's way to her throat, forming a lump that she would swallow, where it would settle in her stomach, growing bigger and bigger until her eyes would involuntarily fill with tears. She would drop what she was doing and bury her head in her hands letting it all out. When she was done, she would take the trip. She did it every year, it was a sad tradition. A pilgrimage almost.

---

He hated this day. He'd always hated this day on some level. Easter, he'd scoff, it's a fool's holiday no matter which way you look at it. Just an excuse for Catholics to get their kids out of school, families to fight, and the candy companies to prosper. Now he hated it more. When he was younger he thought he could never hate the holiday with more passion. Years of nothing special because your mom's to drunk to remember what month it is, let alone day. He'd been young and foolish. He should have known things can, and almost certainly will, always get worse. You had to hit rock bottom before you could get back up. Every year he'd hit bottom, and struggle to get up. Just as he'd regain his footing the dreaded holiday would roll around again, knocking him back down.

---

Last year she'd been walking through town when it hit her. The year before that, she'd been in the middle of dinner. She thanked god she couldn't see her family's pitying faces as she rushed out the door with a sob. This year she'd been cooking. Yes, Rory Gilmore had been cooking. She had just basted the ham when it happened. Jess wordlessly took over as she bolted out the back door, keys in hand. He knew, he understood. He made the trip too, never with her though. They both knew it was something they had to do separately. If they'd done it together, they would never had survived.

---

She'd already gone and come back. They'd eaten dinner, and it had been civil. No family fights here. Even Luke was less gruff. No one questioned him when he slipped out the door. They knew where he was going. The once unpredictable rebel had turned into a big softie. So he left, like clockwork, taking his keys, climbing in his Chevelle, and heading down the road he'd driven far too many times for his liking. No one should have to drive this road, he thought at least. He knew they did though. He knew the road was well worn, though not smooth. It was filled with bumps and pot holes. There was no grass on the sides, just sand. He also knew the road was in his head. For the actually roads he drove were smooth, with grass on the sides. His road, was figurative.

---

Now she was standing there, alone, in the middle of the cemetery a single lily clenched in her hand. The little lady who ran the floral shop had left it for her in a special spot. Even if it had been in the middle of town no one would have taken it. They all knew it was for Rory. None of them even wanted to imagine what it would mean if they took it. How she would react. If she would ever be the same. No one did though, because they never took it.

---

It was all too soon and he was standing there, alone, in the middle of the cemetery, looking at the single lily leaning against the smooth, and no doubt cold, stone. He knew Rory had brought it. Like the rest of the town he knew about her arrangement with Mrs. Henderson, who ran the floral shop. She wanted a single lily, on Easter, no sooner, no later. She would pay in advance, and pick it up at unexpected times. He also knew the whole town knew. She didn't realize they knew, but they did.

---

Which is why she could stand there, alone, in the middle of the cemetery with a single lily clenched in her hand, and a tear rolling down her cheek. To her, she was alone, in reality she was not. The cemetery was actually almost busy. People coming in and out to place flowers on the graves of their loved ones. They all noticed the young woman with the brown hair standing there. Her shoulder bent in grief. They knew theirs would be too. None of them offered condolences though. Either thinking it too awkward, or knowing from experience that it wouldn't help, only hurt more.

---

He was alone, in the cemetery. There was no one there. He looked around him at the different shapes and sizes of gray stones and monuments. There was no one. They were all having dinner and desert with their families. Laughing about little Billy's antics. Or crying because Uncle Tom got drunk and fought with Aunt Marilee and now she's locked in the bathroom and their children are scared. He would always be cynical. He was glad for the tranquility. He could loose himself in his thoughts, and not have to worry about people seeing him cry.

---

Which is why she thought she was standing there alone, in the middle of the cemetery with a single lily clenched in her hand, a tear rolling down her cheek, and staring at the grave of her best friend in the world. Years ago if you'd asked her whom her best friend was her answer would have been predictable. She never imagined time could change that. But it did, it came and swept her under it's spell. Aging her with a rapidity she'd never known, stealing her innocence, leaving her breathless.

---

And he did, cry that is. Remembering the day, 5 Easter's before, when this beautiful life had been snuffed out. He cried tears for himself. He cried tears for the deceased. He cried tears for their family, for their friends. But mostly, he cried for Rory. For knowing what she went through. He imagined her standing here, alone, but at that time of the day not really alone. a single lily clenched in her hand as she cried, staring at the grave where her best friend was buried. He allowed himself to look at the name, and swallowed. He'd been in the car, why hadn't he died? He knew Rory thought that too. Why hadn't Jess died instead? She denied it of course, but he could see it in her eyes, and he couldn't blame her. The accident wasn't his fault. A teenager, a drunk teenager had hit them, sending them into a tree. They'd all walked away, except her. She didn't make it, and it was no surprise considering where she was in the accident. He looked at the name again and choked back a sob, knowing somehow, with an outside knowledge, that Rory had done the same.

---

He'd been in the car, why is he still here and not her? The thought was sudden in Rory's mind, but she was used to it, she had it every year. and every year she knew the answer. The answer was what haunted her. The answer was what made her have insomnia. The answer was what shook her to the bone. It was such a simple answer, for a complex situation. She was too young. She died, because she was too young. Her best friend, was taken from her, ripped from her life in an instant, because she was five. Rory's tears blurred the name on the stone, and she blinked furiously to bring it into focus as she squatted to place the lily against the stone. Lorelai "Lily" Mariano, 2006-2011. Rory closed her eyes tightly.

---

There was something dark on the stone, Jess noticed. Was it beginning to rain? That would suit the day. He held out a hand. Nope, no rain. He looked closer at the dark spot, definitely wet, and bigger too. He came to a startling realization. The lily was crying. Dammit, he gave a wry laugh, Rory's single lily was crying on the grave of his single Lily. It was ironic. He considered it his cue, then turned and made the trek back to his car.


End file.
